The wind

[ChristopherSea]

Carries its freight,
rattle and clang,
trails anchors into land.

Sea storms and poppies
greet an old sailor,
slopping early rise rum.

Flutters the skirt
of his Cancan tattoo,
spits out tobacco bits
rolled for his first brew.

Smoke blows complaints
in sheltered accommodation,
drinks to remember
what he gave for our nation.

Poignant poetry! For me your poem was a sad and effective commentary for what happens to our military after their service is over. Keith, I like your brevity in poetry. It is rather Haiku-ish and it has become your signature style. My favorite stanza is the tatoo one. It is a grand image! The only line giving me trouble is 'trails anchors into land'. I assume that's the wind, but it could be the sailor. Either way, my head wants to read 'drags' instead of 'trails'. Set me straight!/Chris